Slytherin Ambition
by billys-green-soup
Summary: Response to Pinky Green's makeover challenge. Draco doesn't like the way his life is heading and makes a decision on what, exactly, his slytherin ambition is. With a little help from Madam Rosmerta, can he make it a reality? DM/HG May be a follow up fic.


Reply to Pinky Green's makeover challenge. I just figured that most people who would do this challenge would give the girl a makover, but i really wanted to make it special and do a Draco makeover! And yes, it is hard to find a way to makeover Draco Malfoy, and still keep him Draco Malfoy!

Disclaimer: I wish I did, but I don't.

* * *

Bottles were stacking up around him. His eyes were bagged and deep, his hair dishevled from running his hands through it again and again and again...

Newly empty, Draco Malfoy slammed his butterbeer bottle on the couter once more, followed by more money. "Another," he demanded.

Madam Rosmerta looked up at him from the counter she was wiping down. "Come again?"

"Another!" he snapped viciously.

She cocked her hip. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to cut you off." She started toward him, the rag over her shoulder.

His icy blue glare snapped up to her eyes. "Listen, it works like this: I keep giving you money, you have to keep giving me butterbeers."

She started collecting his bottles. One, two, three... "No, it works like this: My bar, my rules. I don't _have_ to do anything." Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen... Merlin! Who had given him this many? She'd have to talk to her workers. "I'm cutting you off.

Draco stood suddenly, knocking over his stool with a bang. Nevermind the other Hogwarts students still straggling behind in a last ditch attempt to stay on the Hogsmeade trip. This was his only chance to be away from the other Slytherins and if he wanted to drink, he would drink, dammit! He swayed a bit as he said, "You can't do that to me!"

She stood before him and looked the boy square in the eye. "My bar, my rules. You want to keep drinking, you can walk down to The Hog's Head. If you can make it." How old was this kid, standing here half-drunk and telling her how to run her bar? Fifteen? Sixteen?

After a few seconds, Draco released the bar angrily and promptly lost his balance. As he sat up and rubbed his neck, he groaned, "Butterbeer... Butterbeer shouldn't-"

"Butterbeer doesn't have much alcohol," she corrected, helping to pull him up into another stool from her side of the counter. "But eighteen butterbeers..."

He swayed, then closed his eyes and smacked his head on the counter. She sighed, looking down at the boy. "You wanna talk about it?"

Draco rolled his head from side to side, and improvised shake.

She ruffled his pale blonde hair. "When you do, let me know. I'll be here." As she turned around, there was a tug on her sleeve.

"Do you know who I am?" he asked. His tone had changed. It wasn't rude, it was an inquiry.

Hesitantly, she replied, "Yes... You're Draco Malfoy..."

"See!" His head smacked the counter once more. "Everyone knows who I am! Everyone knows Draco Malfoy is the son of a Death Eater, of a powerful one and everyone knows that I'm the- Oh, what was it Pansy called me, The Slytherin Prince. They expect things of me. They expect me to be horrible and evil and to hate Potter and Granger and all the mudbloods and the blood-traitors! Everyone expects me to follow in my dad's footsteps! Everyone! What if I didn't want to be a Death Eater? What if I didn't want a reputation? What if I wanted to be a bloody Healer or Quidditch Player or Ministry Official! Everyone expects me to live off of my inheritance, but what if sitting at home everyday is boring? What if I wanted a job? What if-"

Rosmerta conjured a glass and poured a potion into it. "Drink this, Master Malfoy."

"Don't call me that."

"Well, fine. Drink this, then, O Mighty Slytherin Prince."

Draco glared at her and took the glass. "What is it?"

"You're drunk. We're in a bar. Drink it."

Hesitantly, her sipped it, then drank the rest. His head cleared and he tapped the glass down again. "Thanks. I-I must have been... drunk. Forget I said anything."

As Draco started to get up again, Rosmerta asked, "Well, do you?"

"What?"

She was washing the glass. "Do you want to be a Healer? Do you hate Potter? Are you going to follow in Lucius's footsteps?'

Draco hesitated. "I was drunk. It was drunk babble. Mother does it all the time-"

Rosmerta looked him in the eyes with a serious stare. "Drunk people are often more honest than sober ones, you know that? What do you want, Draco Malfoy?"

* * *

Draco stratched his head. "How is this going to help, Madam Rosmerta?"

She smiled. "It'll help."

"But _how?_" he asked, inspecting himself in the mirror. Father would kill him. The Slytherins would laugh. It didn't matter who he was.

Draco didn't see himself in the mirror. He didn't know who that was, but he was _not _Draco Malfoy. His hair was different, so, so different. It was no longer his signature platinum blonde, but honey colored now, and cut differently so that the top could spike a bit and it hung into his face. Rosmerta had cast some spell to make it longer, too, the back reaching just past the nape of his neck. In it, there were a few Slytherin green streaks, the evidence of his reply when she'd asked to be sure of his very, very favorite color. His eyes, too, had been changed, a bit of tinting to them had made them lighter, almost nothing but straight silver. The silver studs in his ears had been a little painful, as well as the piercings all the way up one of them.

"There's one more thing, Draco," Rosmerta said."

He was still marveling in the mirror, turning this way and that. "What?" he asked absently.

She moved in front of him, blocking the mirror. "I gave you a new look, Draco. You have to change yourself if you want to change. Do you want to make new friends?"

He hesitated and nodded. He no longer wantewd his lackeys who mindlessly did his bidding. Maybe there was someone at Hogwarts that actually had their own brain in their head...

"Then you're going to have to go for it. Go out of your way and make those friends yourself. I can't help you any further."

Draco frowned. "Then what in bloody hell was all this for!" he demanded, ruffling his new hair.

Rosmerta shook her head. "You'll know, Draco. Not to worry.

* * *

When Draco entered the school, everyone who saw him burst into whispers. And when they realized who he was, there were even more.

Pansy stepped up beside him, then saw his face and stopped, cold. "_Draco?_ What- What happened to you? Your beautiful hair! Oh, I knew we shouldn't have let you stay alone in that wretched bar! Did they hurt you terribly, Draco? Oh, wait till your father hears about this! He'll shuht that bar down for good! They had no-"

"Pansy," Draco said calmly. It wasn't loud or rough, but his tone made her shut up completely. "Let Father hear of this. I don't care. I'm done being the Prince of Slytherin or whatever. You can keep your bloody crown." With that, he shoved past her and into the Great Hall to eat his meal.

It wasn't a pleasant meal, though. True enough, he didn't have to deal with the other Slytherins face to face, but every eyes in the school was on him. Was this really what he wanted?

Back in the common room, Blaise was the first to speak. "What in Merlin's name is all this, Malfoy?"

Draco shrugged. "I wanted to change."

Blaise scowled until Draco looked up at him. "Change how, Malfoy? I thought we were friends."

There was a pang as he realized he may have been to harsh. Sure, he didn't want Crabbe or Goyle or Pansy anymore, but Blaise had always been a good friend to him. Well, sort of good. He was an okay guy. Er- He had his days. Draco sat up and sighed. "You don't know the pressure I've got this year, Blaise. I just wanted an out. And she said this could help. What'dya say? You in?"

Blaise grinned and slapped his dark hand into that of his friend. Maybe Zabini was better that he'd imagined.

Blaise didn't change his look. There wasn't much they could do without Rosemerta, after all, but the next morning, they showered, found out how to make Draco's hair do what it had done before, and headed out into the school. After breakfast, on his way to Potions, he bumped into Ronald Weasley. As he started to reach for his wand, he remembered his change. He wasn't the old Draco Malfoy. He pulled back.

"Oh, sorry, mate," Draco murmured, casting a look at Granger. The filthy mudblood hadn't even-

Wait, no. That wasn't right. He was supposed to keep an open mind, be a new person. He looked her over. She was still all bushy hair and books, but the last time he'd seen her- really _seen _her- was first year. She'd filled out since then, growing curves that shamed many purebloods he knew and with teeth whiter than the pages of her new books. They were alos smaller than before. When had she stopped being buck-toothed? Draco crushed the stirrings in him down. Open mind or not, she was still Granger, Potter's best friend and a mudblood to boot. He couldn't think that way. But wasn't all this about what _he_ wanted? After all this time,. he wasn't even sure what that was...

Weasley reared. "What, all that hair in your eyes, Malfoy? Can't see what's right in front of you?"

"Watch it, Weasley!" Blaise hissed, stepping up for Draco. He put on hand on his defender's shoulder and pulled him back.

"It was an accident, Wea- Ron. Let it go."

Ron stared for a second. "_What did you say, Malfoy?_"

Surprised, he stepped back. "It was an accident. You know, not on purpose?"

Ron's face was red and astonished. He glared suspiciously at the Slytherin.

Granger- No, _Hermione_ stepped forward and put a hand over Ron's, looking squarely at Draco. The look caused more stirrings than he was ready for. That open mind thing might have been a bad idea. "Let's just go, Ronald. It was an accident."

Harry grabbed Ron's arm and pulled. "Later, _Malfoy._"

Blaise stared at Draco. "So we're standing down on everything? We're going to get shredded by the other Slytherins, Draco!"

Swallowing, Draco nodded. "I didn't say we wouldn't fight back. We're just not gonna start anything. But if it gets started," he turned a deathly glare to his dark-skinned friend. "We'll finish it."

* * *

It was just after dinner that the Slytherin's had, apparently, made their decision. Draco was no longer one of them, and if Blaise was going to be the same, he was going with him. When they got into the common room, the mood was all wrong. Something was about to happen.

Unexpectedly, Millicent Bullstrode sidled up, Crabbe and Goyle behind her. "Malfoy. Zabini."

They nodded respectively. Draco expected Blaise to give in, go back into the Slytherin throng and be the head of it in his stead. He would do a damn sight better than _Millicent bloody Bullstrode._ He cast a glance at his friend to find him hoving his hand near his wand pocket, ready for action. Relief washed through him and he looked up into Millicent's eyes. "Bullstrode."

She tilted her head up. "You bailing on us, Malfoy? Maybe you should have been in Hufflepuff. You've gone a little soft, haven't you?"

Draco shook his head. "Nah, not soft. I've just decided that my Slytherin ambition isn't to lead a bunch of snot-nosed pricks into battle on the wrong side. I don't need this house to rise to the top." He looked at Crabbe and Goyle. "And I certainly don't need a pair of idiot henchmen."

Crabbe shoved Millicent to the side into Goyle. "We never did nothin' you didn't tell us to do, Malfoy. Nothin'. Now what're we supposed to do? Follow you blindly again? Not no more, Malfoy. You're about to see what your idiot henchmen are worth." His wand came up out of his pocket and was trained on Malfoy's face. He opened his mouth to say his hex, the wand starting to light up with the spell, but from the left, there was a shout and a yellow light hit his arm, where tentacles spouted and lanched at his face, dragging his arm with it.

Blaise grabbed Draco and threw him through the door, leaping out after him. "Don't just sit there, you moron! Run!" he hissed, grabbing the back of Draco's robes and dragging him behind. They ran for what seemed like forever and there were always a least a few Slytherins on their tail.

At a landing, Blaise hesitated. "You go up, I'll go down. Maybe they'll only chase one."

Draco hesitated. "But-"

Blaise stomped back up the stairs and shoved his best friend onto the staircase going up just as it moved. "Run, Draco." The other starcase started swirling, swtiching with another and he took off.

He lost count of the staircases he climbed. Draco would have drawn his wand, would have fought back, but he'd been caught before by Theodore Nott and Daphne Greengrass, along with a few others, and they'd taken it. He'd managed to kick a few of them and get loose, rounding a conrner in time to dodge their curses. He'd even broken two wands.

Amazingly, though, there were still two people behind him. His loyal dogs had turned on him and they weren't backing down. Draco was just checking his back to see how close the they were when he slammed hard into someone. they both crashed to the ground, Draco on top of them. He pushed himself up and looked back again, not noticing who was on the floor. "Sorry, I gotta go. Really, I'm sor-" Goyle rounded the corner and spotted him, pointing and shouting to his partner.

"Oh, Merlin," Draco said, giving up. Where was he going to run? Down more stairs? More importantly, where on Earth was the energy for that run going to come from?

He close his eyes and Crabbe and Goyle got close and waited. Maybe they would just pound on him. They didn't have their wands out when he saw them. He could handle that. The Weasley twins and Harry Potter had beaten the crap out of him once. This, though, would most assuredly be much, much worse.

Suddenly, a voice beside him yelled, "_Impedimenta! Impedimenta!_" and there was a sharp tug on his arm. He hit the floor with enough wits about him to know that there hadn't been a door there. Why hadn't he hit the stone wall? Unfortunately, he did not have enoug wits about him to look and see where he was.

A long mane of bushy brown hair came into view, followed by a pair of chocolate brown pools. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm okay. What- Where- _Granger_?"

She cocked her head and raised an eyebrow. "Ron is the only one who gets a first name?"

He shook his head. "Oh, sorry, Hermione."

She sat back on her heels. "So it's true. The mighty Draco Malfoy has joined us lowly mortals. What happened?"

He sighed. "I just couldn't do it anymore. I never wanted to lead all that slime around. I never wanted to fight and become a Death Eater. I wanted-"

She held up a hand, raising the eyebrow further. "I meant _out_ _there_. What happened _out_ _there_?" Hermione chuckled a bit.

He blushed and sat up. "Oh. You know. I mean, what you do if Harry changed all of a sudden?"

She shook her head and looked sympathetic. "Not that. Definitely not that." She touched his forhead gingerly and he winced. "You're bleeding. You should go to see Madam Pomfrey."

He shook his head and waved away her hand. "You know I have to spend the rest of the year in that house, right? That'd make everything so much worse." He started to get up, but she stopped him. Her wand came out of her pocket and she started muttering, pointing it at his face. "So..." he said, staring at her face, so close in the firelight. She was actually quite pretty. He must ahve bumped his head. "Where are we?"

She glanced at him and smirked, bringing her wand down. "Take a wild guess."

One look around told him that he'd gone from the cauldron to the fire. The room was full of red and gold draperies and cushy chairs and couches. He was where no Slytherin belonged. He was in the Gryffindor common room. "Oh, Merlin," he said again.

Hermione stood. "Just until they're gone. Don't worry. You're okay here. Unless a Weasley finds you. Then you're dead."

Draco laid back on the floor, soft red carpet. Hermione knelt beside him again. "You wanna talk about it?"

"About what?"

She leaned over him, her hair brushing his face and sending shocks down his body. "About why you changed all of a sudden. What's with the makeover and the niceness. And the first names. Especially the first names."

He blushed as she stared down at him. "Like I said, it's not what I wanted."

She leaned back. "What's that supposed to mean. Anything for ambition, right?"

Draco shrugged. That slime has nothign to do with my ambition. I can get what I want without having to be an ass all the time."

She giggled beside him. "What is it that you want, Draco?"

He sat up on his elbows and looked into the chocolate brown of her eyes. "I want to be free. I want to make my decisions and think about my own future and not what's going to look good for the family. I want to have friends who are friends with me, not my name. That's my ambition. And, yeah, I'm going to do anything to get it. But you know what I want right now?" He sat up a little further and leaned toward the mudblood- no, the muggle-born. There was nothing muddy about this girl.

Her breath hitched and he got closer. "What?"

His breath was on her face as he closed his eyes and muttered, "You."

* * *

Yes, yes, there wasn't as much Hermione/Draco-ness as there should have been, but this is, in fact a romance. IT IS! SHUTUP!

Anyway, reviews sustain my sanity, only a bit, so I'll need lots. I don't want them free, though! I'll take them in exchange for: TACOS!


End file.
